


Pick-Up Artist

by virtualpersonal



Series: blue collar meets city slicker [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Funny, light - Freeform, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3253307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters reluctantly agree to meet a 'city slicker hunter.' When it turns out that hunter is Cordelia Chase, things start to look up. Or do they? Light and funny break for Sam in the middle of all of the heavier drama of Season 5 SPN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick-Up Artist

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=2py47t1)   
> 
> 
> Co-written with Catscorner

They'd been sitting in one of the booths at a bar for thirty minutes and Sam didn't think that Dean stopped complaining for more than a minute at a time, and that was just so he could take a sip of his drink. He almost wished his brother would go hit on some girl so Sam didn't have to listen to him anymore, but it was too early for the bar to fill up so there weren't many women. Probably the lack of eye candy was another factor playing into Dean's mood, there was nothing to distract him.

Sam shook his head. "Dude, just suck it up already. Bobby's usually setting things up so we get information from others, now it's time for payback, so what's wrong with us helping someone else out?"

"Not just _anyone_ , Sam. Not hunters. Bobby said _city slicker hunters!_ I mean, what the fuck?"

Lips quirking with amusement, Sam gave a one shouldered shrug. He could tell his own calmness was pissing Dean off but he couldn't bother getting worked up over this. "Seriously, who cares? It's like thirty minutes of our time, or whatev--"

"Bet they come in three piece suits with sticks up their asses and... Well _hello_."

When his brother's tone softened and Dean got that 'I'm in love for the next six hours' look, Sam followed his gaze, putting one arm on the back of the seat and slowly turning around. He caught the scent of light fragrance before he saw her, but as he swept his gaze up her body, he hoped he didn't look as smitten as Dean. The woman wore black slacks and a form fitting gray toned shirt which masqueraded as a man-shirt, but no way could anyone mistake her for a man. Not with those neat curves shown off by the way she walked, and now stood, with one hip slightly forward. The material of her shirt might be considered masculine but that was totally eclipsed by the cleavage she showed, which he _really_ should not be focusing on. Raising his eyes almost guiltily to hers, he wondered what magazine she'd stepped out of. She looked _that_ good, with her long dark brown hair held back by the sunglasses that she used like a hair accessory. Confident and sexy, it was a deadly combination where this woman was concerned.

"I love city slickers," Dean grinned at her. "I'm Dean... Winchester."

Doing his best to hide his reaction to the sharp kick under the table, Sam added, "Hi. I'm Sam. And you are..."

"Your worst nightmare," Cordelia said without missing a beat, her sharp tone punctuated by the crack of her palm against Sam's face. She shook out the sting in her hand before propping it on her hip and fixing Sam with a look so finely tuned that it demanded an apology. 

Giving a silent 'ow,' Sam touched his stinging cheek and looked into her furious eyes. "Do I _know_ you?" he asked, his tone and expression making it clear that the contrary was true and demanding to know what the fuck was going on.

Dean looked between the two of them, grabbed his beer and stood up. "You two work out the tension first, then call me. I'll be over there," he nodded toward the bar and started heading that way, though he looked over his shoulder and gave Sam the thumbs up. 

"Do you _know_ me?" Cordy answered, thoroughly insulted that he didn't even remember her and doubly angered that those gorgeous puppy dog eyes were dragging her in just like they had the first time she'd met him. "Gee... I don't know... does the word of the day ring any bells?" She lowered her voice to mimic his. "'The word of the day is 'legs'. Let's get back to your place and spread the word," her tone snapped back. "No? How's that dick of yours... still claiming it needs mouth to mouth?" She shot a pointed look to his crotch before returning her fiery gaze to the target of her anger. "What? You hit on so many girls you don't even remember? Skeezy Pig." 

Sam's grimace deepened when she went from one bad pick-up line to a worse one. "What?" The accusation had him blinking. He gave a rueful, somewhat embarrassed smile as he shook his head in denial. "I think you have me mixed up with someone else, no seriously," he added, seeing her eyes flare with anger and half expecting her to take another swing. He'd have asked whether Bobby put her up to this, but no one could be that good of an actress. He could practically feel the heat of her anger roiling toward him.

Yeah, as if she could forget those eyes. Not likely. Her gaze narrowed on him as he genuinely seemed perplexed, which didn't jive with what she'd experienced the last time they'd met. "Skanky bar in Po-Dunk, Massachusetts? You kept hitting on me... started off by flipping a coin and asking me what your chances were of getting head and it just went downhill from there. I would have knocked you into next Tuesday then if I hadn't been working undercover. Jackass," she added for good measure. And what the hell was she still doing standing here? 

"Massachusetts?" He ran his hand over his face, then through his hair, making another face. "Oh, that." Seeing she seemed about to turn on her heels, he reached out and touched her arm. "No wait, lemme explain. Please?" Unsure she was going to say 'yes,' he added. "I still have the information you need so you might as well stick around for that. Right?" If Dean didn't stop turning to watch and making all those gestures, he was going to have to walk up to the bar and deck the ass. 

Following Sam's glance over her shoulder, Cordy turned to see the guy that had introduced himself as Dean snapping back around to face the bar as if he hadn't just been making lewd gestures behind her back. Turning back to Sam, Cordy huffed, "You two are a piece of work." If innocent lives weren't depending on the information they supposedly had, she would have been out of there in a heartbeat. "You have exactly two minutes to convince me you're not a complete asshole." She folded her arms across her chest, but she didn't sit down. 

"He's the..." Sam started to gesture toward Dean, then decided not to waste his one hundred twenty seconds. He had a feeling she meant the time limit she'd set. Though she hadn't confirmed she was the contact Bobby had wanted them to meet up with, she'd said she'd been undercover, and hadn't denied needing information. He was sure she was the contact. "Possession. I was possessed." Her expression turned more scathing, if it was possible. Oddly he tensed, like it was important for him to clear the air, make her understand even if he was never going to see her again.

"I know, not your ordinary possession. It was a spell, a possession spell," he said, nodding. "One minute I was me, and the next, I was stuck in this teenager's body and was getting yelled at by his dad. I guess 'body swap' would be a better word for it. I do know that the kid, Gary, went into a bar." He also knew that Gary had gotten laid in his body, but he wasn't about to mention that. 

Cordy's eyes stayed fixed on his, narrowing slightly when he mentioned possession. If she hadn't been there, done that, and birthed an evil demigod she might have balked a little more - but as it was, she listened as he went on to explain it was more of a body swap. She'd heard Faith and Buffy had switched bodies and inwardly shuddered at the thought of all the STDs Buffy could have caught during that time. 

In any case, she decided it was plausible enough given their line of work and slipped into the booth to sit across from him. "Hope you made a visit to the free clinic because that was a skanky bar with girls to match. I don't know if any of those lines worked on any of them... just sayin'." Her mouth pulled into a slight smirk and her gaze softened as she looked at the guy again as if for the first time. 

STDs... No he wasn't going there. Ignoring the question entirely, he admitted. "I'm wishing I didn't know what came out of my mouth that night. So you believe me?" A smile lit up his face as he saw one on hers for the first time. Bet if she gave a full on smile, it could drive a guy to his knees. "Would you... ah... like a drink?" Somehow he was reluctant to call Dean over just yet. "You probably had a long hard drive from... wherever," he laughed. "LA, right?"

" _Long, hard_ drive?" She quirked a speculative brow, but an amused glint still sparked in her eye. "Well now I'm not so sure I believe you. Why don't you just stick with the classics. What's your sign... Haven't we met somewhere before... Am I dead, because you look like an angel..." She lifted her head and nodded to the cocktail waitress to order a Manhattan. "Yes, LA," she decided to cut him some slack and answer his question. "Your first time in the big city?" Okay, so maybe not too much slack. 

He raised his brows and looked down at his plaid shirt. That's probably what she meant, he hoped. "No, I've been in plenty of big cities, like Palo Alto, and Santa Fe or Ashville," he rattled off a few more small towns, "but apparently not Po Dunk Massachusetts." Even though she wasn't angry anymore, she seemed to keep him on his toes, on guard for something. It was a strange feeling, not unlike nervous excitement. "Anyway lines never worked for me. I don't think I have the right 'delivery' for them and someone else in the family got those genes." Thinking about the lines she'd quoted, he cringed a little. "So how do you know Bobby? I'm surprised he didn't say anything about you... never mind, I can't think of a way to end that one without it sounding like a come on." 

Cordy let out a laugh and flashed a toothy smile deciding he was okay. "I don't actually know Bobby. My boss does - who, funny enough, is an angel. Well, his name is Angel anyway. I'm Cordelia. Cordelia Chase," she said slipping a card out of her purse and handing it over to him. "Angel Investigations. We help the helpless. So you're Sam Winchester. And that makes the guy that can deliver the lines your brother Dean?" she tossed a look over her shoulder again and saw he was making the moves on a blonde who looked to be more boobs than brains. "Niiiice," she drew out the sarcasm laced word and rolled her eyes before they settled on Sam again. It was a good thing the drink came when it did or she might have just kept right on staring. 

She took a sip of her drink and licked her lips before raising her eyes to meet his again. "So. You have information on this pain in the ass guy that calls himself the Trickster?" 

He was about to come to a half hearted defense of Dean but she said the name that got all of his attention. "Trickster is more than a pain in the ass. I'd steer clear of him if I could, no I mean it," he said, his hand closing around his beer bottle. "We've run into him a couple of times and it's never gone well. For us," he clarified. "At first you think he's a walking joke, the way he talks and acts. Thing is he's got a bad sense of humor and a whole lot of power behind it. People are like chess pieces to him." Lifting the bottle to his lips, he took a drink. "What's got you interested in him?"

"More like he's interested in us," Cordy said, her brows pulling into a frown. "Or my boss, to be specific. Angel... the Trickster has been messing with him. Dropping him into alternate realities, screwing with his head. I was hoping you might know his soft spots... his weaknesses. Maybe give me something to work with." 

"He doesn't have many of those, weaknesses," he answered. "He's a master of disguises, I mean, for all I know, you could be him." Now that would be a tragedy, he thought, looking at the whole package this time. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and her questions showed she was not only sharp, but also determined. Feeling the weight of her stare, he realized he'd trailed off. Clearing his throat, he continued. "He's got this thing for sugar. If you see lots of candy wrappers, then he's around and you better watch your back, I mean your boss' back. Actually, keep out of it if you can. Once he takes a liking to you," he shook his head.

The Manhattan swirled around in the martini glass as she listened to him talk, finding it just a little difficult to focus on exactly what he was saying. "Sugar, right..." She set down the drink without taking a sip. Focus. "And yeah... we've seen his impersonation act," she said sharing a knowing look with him. "He took the form of Angel's ex. They have this whole... star-crossed lovers thing. He's got this curse and..." Cordy waved it off. "Well it's a long story and not important because he figured it out before bumping uglies with her... him.. whatever. Crisis averted. But trust me when I tell you it could have been bad." 

Bumping uglies? His lips quirked and he looked down at the table to hide it before looking back. Yeah, he had a thing for brunettes. Especially smart, witty ones who spoke about the _other_ things that went bump in the dark. 

She paused when she caught the way he was looking at her. She already knew he appreciated her looks - they all did. But Sam actually seemed to see beyond the pretty packaging and appeared genuinely interested in finding out what she had to say... like her contribution was important. A rare flush colored her cheeks and Cordy swept up her glass and took a long drink to regain her composure. "So... candy wrappers. Good to know. Anything else?" 

"Yeah." He watched a flush steal over her face and wondered what caused it. He'd have offered her a penny for her thoughts if he weren't afraid that she wouldn't be able to separate him from Gary riding his body, not that he could blame her. Maybe he should be prepared for a lifetime of women he didn't know slapping him. "Ah, well we think we know how to kill him, but we've never actually been able to put that plan into effect. Bobby might have told you that we think a stake to the heart will do it, but there's always fine print. It has to be dipped in the blood of one of his victims." Seeing the frown form on her forehead, he started to reach out to smooth it away, but dropped his hand before he touched her. What the hell was he thinking? "Pretzels," he asked a waitress who was walking by, hoping Cordelia would think that's what he'd been after. 

For a moment Cordy thought he was reaching out to caress her face, but he changed his trajectory at the last moment and she realized he'd only been trying to get the waitress' attention. The weird thing was, she hadn't even flinched. The weirder thing was that she was a little disappointed that he hadn't actually touched her. 

Absently, she plucked the cherry out of her drink and twirled it by the stem. "Stake dipped in the victim's blood. Oh the irony..." she smirked at the private joke. Angel told her Bobby didn't know he was a vampire - apparently these hunters were hard core and might not understand or care about the whole soul thing. "Boss will love that," the smirk pulled into a grin as she popped the cherry between her teeth and bit down before closing her lips around it to suck the juice. 

"Oh? Why's that?" he asked, suddenly having trouble putting words together as he watched her practically make love to the cherry. _You like cherries? I'd like to be that cherry..._ He dragged his gaze away from her straight with teeth and the sight of her lips wrapped around the cherry. Scrubbing his mind of the line worthy of Gary, he guiltily snapped his eyes up to meet hers. "Is _this_ a come-on?" He asked, cocking his head and giving a half smile. Aw hell, she'd mesmerized him with her mouth, and then confused him with that piercing look in her eyes. That was the only way he could explain why he blurted out the question that might earn him another resounding slap. 

Cordy blinked and plucked the cherry from stem before she realized what he was talking about. "What... this?" she twirled the stem, her mouth pulling into a wicked smile as she slowly chewed and considered her answer. She knew she should probably be offended that he would even suggest that she would use the oldest trick in the book to turn a guy on _\- as if -_ but considering the reoccurring theme of their meeting so far, she couldn't quite resist playing with it. "And what would you do if it was?" she arched a neatly shaped brow in question. 

"Slapping you would be the _furthest_ thing from my mind," he answered, relieved she'd taken it in stride and glad to find she had a sense of humor. Since this was her _not trying to come on_ to him, he could only imagine how potent she'd be when she put a little effort into it. "I'd order a whole bowl of cherries for you, I'm a masochist that way," he added, this time not obviously waiting for her to pull the stem back out.

She casually dropped the stem to the napkin with an enigmatic smile, her gaze never leaving his. "Good thing I like cherries," she said as she picked up her drink and took a sip. "So, beware of candy wrappers and add one stake dipped in the Trickster's victim's blood to weapons inventory," she said smoothly returning to business as if that's all there was between them even though they both knew there was the potential for something more. "Any other tips or tricks you'd care to share?" 

Yeah but that would for sure earn him a slap. Or maybe not. He sure wished he had the time to find out, but Dean had been so insistent on leaving within a set time. "I'd love to." He licked his lips, "I mean if I had any. So far, we haven't had that much success against him. He likes to play. Seems like if you play along, you get to live most of the time." He blinked back memories of Dean dying a hundred times over near the Mystery Spot. "Mostly. He seems to be hung up on destiny, at least that's what he says and he always has an agenda. Like he's trying to 'teach you' something," he shrugged. "I'm sorry, he's just not one of the monsters that there's a quick end for."

Noticing he was leaning quite a bit forward, maybe it was because he liked the tantalizing whiffs he was getting of her fragrance, he sat a bit straighter. "Wouldn't you rather know how to terminate a vampire or toast a wendigo?"

"No thanks. Been there, done that, but passed on the t-shirt because hello... tacky," she said without missing a beat. "But if the Trickster's hung up on destiny, that explains why he's jonsing for Angel. He's linked to this whole big prophecy thing," she by way of vague explanation. But the mention of destiny begged the question. "So what's your destiny?" She leveled a pointed finger and gave it a little wiggle as she continued, "Think carefully before you turn that into the world's cheesiest pick-up line or I just may have to change my mind about believing that whole Gary story. What I _meant_ was, why are you on the Trickster's radar? You and your brother wrapped up in some divine master plan?" She'd seen the brief flash of raw emotion in his eyes right before he'd mentioned the destiny thing - there was something there, something drawing her in to want to know more. 

"You mean like telling you 'today might be my last day on earth' and begging for a last _wish_?" It wasn't as ridiculous as it might sound to others. He and Dean had been there, and done that. He sobered. "We don't believe in divine master plans and we're working on convincing the rest of the world." By world, he meant angels, demons, Satan and God. "So what's the prophesy? And does your boss get to walk off the battlefield with the girl?" That version of destiny, the one written about in books and seen in moves, that he might be able to get into. But his, it was a curse. He wished she hadn't reminded him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that no matter what he did, she find out. So many already had and they looked at him differently, he probably shouldn't give a damn. But he did.

"Yeah... I guess maybe he will," Cordy nodded thoughtfully, not quite ready to examine how she felt about Angel and Buffy ending up together in the end. She supposed that it was always meant to be that way and she shouldn't begrudge him for wanting that. 

After a moment of looking into what remained of her Manhattan, Cordy lifted her gaze to meet Sam's, silently wondering why he was so set against the idea of a master plan. She wanted to reach over and smooth the furrowed brow that had formed over those intense hunter green eyes. She wanted to cover his hand with hers and ask what he was thinking but not saying. But she didn't. This was a business meeting, not a date. What the hell was wrong with her? 

"Angel's supposed to play a major role in the Apocalypse and then be rewarded for his efforts," she explained, reminding herself that these guys weren't hip to the whole vampire with a soul thing. If Wesley's interpretation of the Shanshu Prophecy was correct, Angel would get to live as a human again, but she left that part out. "Think maybe that has something to do with why the Trickster is dogging him?" 

For a crazy second or two, he wondered if this was a set up and half expected her eyes to go black. The devil was _not_ behind every pretty face and coincidences did happen. Then another thought came to mind. Angel Investigations. A boss named angel. "You're not trying to tell me you work for _an_ angel, are you?" Nah, he really was getting paranoid.

Cordy let out an indelicate snort of laughter and shook her head. "No... Angel's one of the good guys, but definitely not an angel." She used the question as an opening to try and satisfy that tickle of curiosity he'd managed to stir up. "Why... you have a thing against angels?"

"Yeah. I have," he answered, nodding his head. "Whether you believe or not, you grow up thinking angels are the good guys, right?" He made a face that made it clear how untrue that belief turned out to be. "Instead they turn out to be no better than demons, or the Trickster. They have these agendas and they play with lives, lives that don't really matter to them." Taking a breath, he added. "Except for one angel, but it took a while for him to change. Sorry if I... I know how it feels when you learn something you thought was true isn't."

Nodding, Cordy drained the last of the drink. "Yeah, we've had our share of run-ins with the Powers that Be," she said, disillusionment clear in her eyes. "We're all just pawns to them," she looked into her empty glass as she recalled her own ascension. She swallowed and lifted her gaze just enough to look at Sam through dark, heavy lashes. "Some of us more than others." 

At first, he thought she meant him. But she didn't know about him and there was something lurking in the depths of her eyes, something she was trying to mask. "Don't bet on it," he finally said, guessing she meant herself. Lifting the bottle up, he drank half of its contents. "You want to talk about it?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Cordy lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Not much to talk about really. They _chose_ me... first as a conduit. They fed me visions and we were able to help a lot of people... but it came with a price. Doesn't it always?" she let out dry laugh and wished she had another drink, but she knew she should go soon. "So I accepted the price and eventually they ended up offering me a higher paying gig..." she lifted her index finger to point straight up. "Well, not so much a _paying_ gig, but it was supposedly to serve a higher purpose. Which, don't get me wrong, it was great for awhile until we had a falling out and they tossed me out of their little club and I landed flat on my ass back here in Hell on Earth." 

She took a breath and shook off the bitterness. "Wow, sorry. That was a real downer," her features pulled into a thoughtful smile. "I usually save my heavy baggage for the porters that I tip well. But you seem to know a thing or two about the ways of the Powers... God... Angels... whatever you want to call them." 

So much of what she said resonated with him. Too much. Only, he was the reason for this being 'hell on earth' and it could get worse, probably would. "No, it's fine," he put his hand over hers on the table and felt a jolt of electricity travel all the way up his arm. He cleared his throat, and shook his head, "It's alright, believe me, I know a thing or two about the price of visions and I'm still paying." Hadn't that been one of the things that convinced him he could use his powers for _good_? Hadn't it lead him on a path straight to hell, like Dean had told him? He wished the price were just him... his own soul, but it was bigger than that. Everyone, every last person on earth could end up paying it. 

As he struggled to rein in his dark, irresolvable thoughts, he pulled his hand back and asked, almost absently, "shall I get you another drink?"

He had visions?! Cordy's heart leapt into her throat and she wondered if maybe he had been the one to take over for her. If that was the case, it was a bummer that she hadn't been able to pass it along with a kiss like Doyle had, she thought as she found herself lost in those puppy dog eyes for a moment. But when he pulled back his hand, the thoughts shattered into disappointment. His touch had felt so nice, like physical confirmation of the inexplicable connection she thought she felt. Was she crazy? 

Yes, she wanted another drink. If she was honest with herself, she wanted much more than a drink. There was so much more she wanted to know about Sam... so many questions she wanted to ask... but since none of it had to do with the reason she was here, she ultimately shook her head, "No, but thanks." Taking a breath, she reached into her purse to pull out enough money to cover their drinks. "I really should get this information to Angel." 

She set the money down and reluctantly slid out of the booth. "Thanks for the information. If we can ever return the favor, you have our number." She looked down at the card she'd handed him and impulsively picked it up. Pulling a pen out of her purse she wrote her cell phone number on the back before returning it to him. "Call me any time," she said, giving him a warm smile. 

She was leaving? Even before he could come up with any semi-legitimate reason to delay her, to keep her talking, she'd stood up and taken care of the drinks. He felt a sharp tug on his insides at the thought she was walking out of his life, which was really illogical but it wasn't like he could fight his feelings. When she passed him the card and flashed that brilliant smile at him, suddenly it felt like everything would be okay. Like it wasn't necessarily _the end._

"Thanks," he looked at her neat handwriting and pocketed it as he slid out of the booth. "I'll walk you to your car. That's not a line and neither is this..." Looking down into her eyes, he gave her a hopeful smile. "Can I call the number, even if it has nothing to do with asking for a favor?" 

Wow, could he be any more cute? Rugged shoulders and chiseled features softened by that dimpled smile and flop of unruly hair -- definitely not LA chic and Cordy couldn't be more fine with that. How long had it been since she'd met anybody that was actually interesting? "Sure," she answered giving him a look out of the corner of her eye as she started to walk out with him.

Meeting Dean's eyes as they walked past, Sam gave his brother a warning look. Only once they were out the door did he put his hand on Cordelia's back. "Let me guess, that's you," he said, pointing at the sexy little sports car parked as far away as possible from the other cars. "And not because it's a fast and easy drive," he added, giving a rueful chuckle as he looked down at her. Somehow, despite the Gary thing, he felt comfortable joking with her now.

Cordy let out a laugh. "Ha ha, stick to your day job, Casanova," she grinned and angled their trajectory toward her modest little red Honda Civic. "But no, that's me," she nodded to the car as they approached, though she slowed her pace as if she wasn't exactly in a hurry to get there. "Don't judge. Not like our line of business exactly pays well," she pointed out. She scanned the parking lot, her eyes stopping on an old style muscle car with Kansas plates. "You?" she arched a brow in question. 

"It _is_ my day job," his eyebrow quirking at being called Casanova. Following her gaze to the Impala, he shook his head. "No. Technically." She was looking at him like she was about to cross her arms and demand he admit the truth. "Okay, you win. But it's Dean's and he doesn't like to share her," he added. "Yeah, no need for you to get a night job."

"Yeah, well... not like saving the world has regular office hours," she rooted around in her purse until she found her keys and slowed to a stop once they got to her car. "So... yeah. This is me," she repeatedly needlessly, stalling because she wasn't quite ready to leave. "So how long are you guys in town?" 

"We'll probably..." he pointed at the Impala behind him with his thumb, "... head out after Dean fills up on food." He didn't want to go. He _really_ didn't want to go. Putting one hand on the roof of her car, he searched her eyes. The long silence between them was electric. He recovered first. "But ah... I'll be back, it's a promise." Something about her made him even more determined to beat heaven and hell at their games. "Dinner. Movie... whatever you like." His longing for a normal date with her sharpened the slight pain he'd felt when she'd been about to walk away. "Your choice," he added, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her breath hitched when he said they were leaving town tonight and she didn't breathe again until he promised he'd be back. When she felt his gentle touch at the side of her face her brain short circuited and she impulsively pushed up on her toes to press her lips against his cheek in a soft kiss. 

He'd already slid his hand behind her head and slanted his mouth over hers before he realized she'd intended something more chaste. That was alright, he could do chaste, he lied to himself even as he crushed his mouth down more firmly over hers. She was warm and soft and she smelled like heaven though he knew she could give a guy hell. Just what he needed, and everything he didn't need in this complicated time of his life. He should let her go, he knew that, but he didn't. One thing. He could take this one thing as his prize, even if he wasn't destined to walk off the battlefield with the girl. Throwing caution to the wind, he flicked his tongue across the seam of her lips, seeking entrance.

When he turned his head and unexpectedly captured her lips, sparks ignited. She should have pulled away, but her misfiring brain had other ideas and Cordy fell headlong into the kiss. Pressing her body closer, her lips parted and her tongue slid against his in a sensual dance. 

He tangled his tongue with hers, searching, mapping the inside of her silky warm mouth. Her kisses were fire and ice, just like the woman herself, and even thought he knew he shouldn't take anymore, he did. Closing his arm around her slender waist, he lifted her up slightly, moving his mouth over hers, tasting, learning, loving how she felt, how she responded to him.

Swept up in the heat of the moment, Cordy's fingers threaded through his unruly mop of hair as he lifted her to the tips of her toes. Their mouths moved together, exploring each new angle and point of contact with increasing intensity until she finally had to pull back, completely breathless. 

"Wow.. that was... just... oh... wow..." Cordy stared at him as if not quite believing what had just happened even though she was still reeling with the sensations he'd stirred inside her. "I have to... uh..." she pointed to the car and laughed, shaking her head. "...apparently I have to figure out how to form a complete sentence." She paused and drew in a breath. "Uh... Car. Go... I have to go." 

"Yeah... uh... yeah," he agreed reluctantly, dropping his hands away. He watched her open the door and quickly get inside, though she was looking at him still, like she didn't want to leave almost as much as he didn't want her to. When she rolled her window down, he leaned in slightly and grinned. "You know, we kind of did things backwards." At her questioning glance, he cocked his head to the side and explained. "If you'd slapped me _now_ , at least I'd get it."

"What makes you think I won't?" she brought her hand to his face as patted it gently, flashing a classic Cordelia mega-watt smile before dropping a last quick kiss on his lips. Without another word, she pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes and drove away. 

As her car pulled around a building, he leaned to the left slightly to watch until she was out of sight, then blew out his breath and straightened. Strangely, he saw Dean standing by the exit of the bar, also leaning just like he had been, to watch. Shaking his head, he walked toward him. "There's nothing wrong with city slicker hunters. Nothing."

"Can't agree with you more, and they've got a mean right _slap_ too," Dean answered with a grin, making his way to the car, laughing as Sam huffed.

Right before he opened the door, Sam made a vow to himself. One way or another, he'd be back here. He needed to be, he felt it in his gut and in every fiber of his being.

Later, when Dean caught him staring off and asked if he was 'day dreaming,' Sam shook his head 'no.' "I'd call it more of an 'incentive' and less of a 'dream.'" He grabbed his sun glasses from the sun visor and put them on, a smile playing on his lips. "Dude, louder," he said, shocking the hell out of his brother when he raised the volume of the music and started to sing.

THE END


End file.
